


whisper help

by batofgoodintent (orphan_account)



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Whumptober, batfam, whumptober day 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 15:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20853848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/batofgoodintent
Summary: whumptober day 1: shaking hands. dick overdid it and cass is being a perfect help.





	whisper help

Three back to back patrol-shifts, and Dick was almost regretting volunteering to take Tim’s rounds on top of his own for tonight. The third hadn’t been his choice, per say, but it had been an emergency that needed dealt with.

But by the time Dick drove his bike home, he felt sick and hollow. All he wanted to do was crawl into the shower and make it his bed for the night. World-wide water crisis or not, would it kill the world to let him use a few hours’ worth of hot water for a nap? Maybe a bath would do the trick—but then there was the problem of drowning, and Dick didn’t want to do that to his family and friends.

‘So how did Dick die?’ the Titans would ask, somber, stone-faced at the funeral.

‘He drowned in the bathtub because of his own stupidity.’

Jason would probably be the one to say that. Bruce would be too cross and constipated to say a word.

And the others…

They’d be so upset with him. Tim, Stephanie, Damian, Cass… Cass hadn’t been out with them tonight, either. Home, injured—forced to learn _monitor duty, _her least favorite skill, while her ankle finished knitting itself back together. He wondered if she’d feel bad at his funeral. If she was in his place, he was pretty sure she’d have been able to handle a full nine hours. Probably fifteen, honestly. Dick wished he had that kind of energy.

Right now he felt like he could just melt onto the floor. 

Dick sighed through his nose. He rubbed under his eyes to take away his headache. When the headache stuck around after a solid thirty seconds of hard work, he gave up the ghost and eased out of his bike jacket. The ghosts of his bathtub-drowned self echoed in the creaking of his joints, but at least nothing felt sore in a way that didn’t come from patrol.

But just as he’d hung up his jacket and started to ease out of his gear, his vision blacked, and he found himself braced against the nearest solid object—a table with grappling lines in need of re-stringing.

Something hard and sharp dug into his hand, but he couldn’t find his bearings to get grounded.

His feet shifted, and he bent one knee—only to find it bumping into the cart. For a terrifying second, Dick thought he might fall backwards. He knew how, of course—how to stay safe even while falling. But before he could adjust and lean into his training, he found something else to lean into instead.

Small but steady hands pushed at his side and back, rebalancing him with the exact pressure that Dick needed to stay upright.

Only one person was that precise—only one person could correct him without overcorrecting him and adjust so easily when Dick started to come back into his own senses. Even injured, Cass had managed to sneak up on him.

“Cass.” Dick’s voice felt far away to his own ears. “Hey.”

Cass didn’t say anything yet. Instead, she took hold of his hand and squeezed it, then tapped the back of his knees. He bent them in response, which must have been what she intended, because she was ready for him as he lowered his center of gravity and found the cave ground.

“Cass, I’m fine,” he said, though his vision had yet to return. “I’m fine.”

“Not fine,” she said. “Wrong.”

“No.” Dick thought he might be pouting, but he felt faraway from his own facial expressions. “Fine. I’m fine, Cass. Just a little lightheaded.”

She sighed through her nose. Then, she gently placed her hands over his eyes.

“I already can’t see, Cass.”

“Keep them closed. Breathe. You can’t see… until, I move my hands. Stop thinking.”

Dick pursed his lips. Then he leaned his head forward into her hands, let out a few slow breaths, and slowly felt the warmth reenter his skin. He couldn’t feel his sight return, but he did feel warmer now. Stronger, though he had no desire to stand just yet.

He sat like that for another minute, silently waiting for Cass to move her hands.

Just as Dick was about to ask, she pulled back.

Dick found himself blinking up at her. He hadn’t realized she was standing.

Or that she was already dressed in house-clothes. Were those pajamas? His head felt fuzzy as he tried to remember when everyone else had come back. Had everyone else peeled off early? Had he run into something extra on his way home? The night was already blurring together—it was going to be hell, writing up his post-patrol summary. And god, he had too much to write.

Nine hours of patrol made him feel almost delirious—there was no way he could remember all the details.

Still, long as it was, it shouldn’t have wiped him out to this extent—it was just an extended workout. Very, very extended. But he’d gone much longer before, when he was younger. And it wasn’t like he was old. He was only twenty-seven.

Just as he was trying to figure out what was wrong though, or at least ask Cass how she’d known to come down here and check on him, Cass cut him off.

“Your hands.”

Dick looked up. “Are what?”

Then he looked down, and saw the blood. The grappling line tools must have dug into his hands and cut them up a little. Or maybe they were already cut from patrol.

But instead of the word ‘bleeding’, Cass said, “Shaking.”

And they were.

Dick hadn’t noticed the tremble before, but they were.

Cass stepped towards him and gently took his hands into hers, holding them as if they’d give her the clue to the whole universe. She searched every line of his palm, and Dick felt like he was being washed without water.

Then she pulled an antibacterial wipe from her pocket first-aid kit and washed them for real.

Dick didn’t even flinch when she cleaned up the broken skin.

“Why are they shaking?” Cass asked.

It wasn’t normally something she needed to ask. She could read a body six ways to Sunday, but clearly there were pieces of the puzzle that she was still missing.

“I think I need some…” He paused. “Sleep.”

Nine hours of patrol. The first one had cut into when he normally ate. Had he eaten today? Dick wasn’t sure he had. And the pre-patrol nap hadn’t happened because he was researching something for the Titans.

He frowned, eyes narrowing as he considered what his schedule had been for the day.

And the night before, with that night’s patrol cutting into the wee hours of the morning. And god, had it been two days without sleep already?

Had he really not eaten since yesterday’s after-patrol cereal and peanut-butter-sandwich binge?

Cass looked at him as though she could read his thoughts. She pressed the bloodied antibacterial wipe into his palm, then gently bent his fingers over it. Once the cloth was solidly in his grasp, she patted his knuckles to keep it in his hands. “Go upstairs,” she said. “Wash. There will be food in your room.”

Before Dick could try to do it himself, Cass offered him a hand up.

Dick clasped her hands as tightly as he could. Despite how his hands still shook, and how they stung from the cuts, he felt steadier on his feet now than he had before. He didn’t hesitate when Cass tugged him up the stairs and led him to his room.

Though Dick was foggy with sleep, he was aware of Cass coaxing a protein bar against his teeth, and the shower to a temperature warm enough to soothe his sore muscles without putting him to sleep. It wasn’t until Dick was between his sheets and under warm, weighted covers that he even thought to say thanks and ask how she’d known to check on him.

But just as quietly as she’d come, she left.

The only proof of her help was a single note, left by the protein bar wrapper and the bloodied antibacterial wipe.

‘Drive better. Bike autopilot was engaged.’

**Author's Note:**

> cass knew he was off bc she was on monitor duty and watched how he was driving. who tf goes from 35 to 65 then down to 25 while veering into the road the entire time.


End file.
